


Untitled

by Archangelsings



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: And angsty, F/M, Fantasy AU, I'll rate this M for now, It'll probably get bloody, M/M, Maybe a little sexy, Sort of Steampunk?, and gorey, i don't know what this is, i'm sorry in advance, my brain needed a "magical" Napoelon and this happened, stop me now tags too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangelsings/pseuds/Archangelsings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Illya saw the Curtain was the day his father died. Fourteen years later it may just be the death of him too.</p><p>Illya began to march.</p><p>AKA That weird steampunk fantasy you didn't know you wanted but got anyway</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first forray into the Man From Uncle Fandom. So hopefully you'll enjoy my little story. This was the product of writers block, too much free time and a love for dicks touching other dicks. Just with a fantastic flare. It's short. I know. But hopefully that's okay. I do plan to write more. We shall see how it goes. And yeah Napoleon's not in the chapter. And tbh probably not the next one either. 
> 
> This story is inspired by my love for magical things. And steampunk. And a general love for mythos and folk lore. I've drawn some inspiration from the Fae and in Napoelon's case the Firebird tale. It's all fairly loose though to allow for maximum creative flow on my end.

The first time Illya saw the Curtain, _really_ saw it, was the day his father died. No. That wasn't entirely accurate. The first time Illya saw the wall was the day his father was _murdered._

  
Illya remembered the moment well, vividly like a collection of photographs in slow motion. He remembered sensations, like the twisted sickness in his stomach as he stared _up, up, up_ at the cold iron ramparts hundreds of feet above. He remembered tilting his little head back as he clung fervently to the crown of his mother's head from his vantage point on her shoulders. Wind as unforgiving as it always was this far North curled through his hair and bit his cheeks a ruddy red, but what he remembered most of all was the sense of being overwhelmed by the sheer _presence_ the Curtain had.

  
It was also the first time he felt the stirring of the _Other_ in him.

  
Executed on the ramparts over a hundred stories up and broadcasted for all the known world to see across the sleek smooth surface the Curtain possessed, Illya watched, morbidly fascinated, as his father was dealt what he now knows was a True Death. A death of Iron and Salt and Water. A death an _Other_ couldn't come back from.

  
Not a drop of blood was shed, but it didn't matter. His father's screams rang out clear in his mind and something deeply primal in Illya cried out with him. It flowed and grew and ebbed like a tide and when it peaked in a crescendo of light that only another _Other_ could see, something inside Illya went out with it.

  
It crawled away, beaten bloody, and died, seeking solitude in its final moments, a spark extinguished before it could ever truly burn. Illya does not miss it. He didn't then and he certainly doesn't now. If he could he'd strip off every bit of Otherness he could. His towering frame. His unnatural strength. The eerie blue hue of his eyes that seemed to shift colour with the fluctuation of his mood.

  
If he could he'd have been born to normal family and have had a normal upbringing like Gaby, sweet innocent fiery Gaby from the East who didn't deserve the hand life dealt her. Unlike himself.

  
Illya huffed out a breath, not really a sigh, just an expulsion of air from lips that frosted in front of him as he looked back up at the wall he hadn't truly seen since that day fourteen years ago. The sensation was the same. Faint nausea as the _Other_ still in him reacted to the vast quantity of Iron that made up the Curtain. The snow beneath his feet was the same muted gray from countless footsteps and the iron-plating below. The Curtain didn't change and Illya couldn't change anything about his past either. It was not the way.

  
Gaby prodded him gently on the hip, a simple, _tap tap_ of her pointer finger against the thick black leather of his sword belt but it brought him out of his head, rooting him back in the here and now. He nodded his thanks.

  
"Am fine," Illya said in Gaby's native Eastern tongue. It's a difficult language to master, he thinks, but for Gaby Illya'd do anything. "Am..." he paused, unclenching his fists and letting his hands rest at his sides. His posture wasn't relaxed, not by a mile, but at the very least it now no longer reeked of imminent combustion, "ready."

  
Gaby didn't say anything, she knew words were often times lost on him, just offered a nod and weak smile before facing front again.

  
_Tap tap._

  
I'm scared

  
_Tap tap._

  
Don't be.

  
The Curtain opened. Its mouth yawned large and wild and untamed in front of them, the sound deafening. It was louder than anything Illya could have prepared himself for.

  
_Tap tap._

  
The first time Illya saw the Curtain was the day his father died. Fourteen years later it may just be the death of him too.

  
Illya began to march.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaby and Illya begin their journey...over the hills and through the woods into the Ironwood Forest they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So bit of back knowledge the world is split into North, South, East, and West, with everything around the encampments known as the Wilds. The Wilds are the home for all the Others (which is an encompassing term for all things magical and not tied down by mortal conventions).   
> North: Iceland (Russia/Soviet Union Duh) Language: Would be russian if you needed a reference when they're switching languages.  
> South: The marshes (Just think of them as the third world, they're closest to the Wilds and least developed of the three nations) No idea tbh. i'll figure it out later. They're not super important for the plot lol  
> East: Verdant greenery and pastures (Germany and friends) Language: German  
> West: Desert and sand (Aka US/UK) Language: English

**They were headed West.**

Gaby knew that much to be fact and little else besides the same iteration of rules drilled into her head since the moment she was "requested" (ordered) to be part of this expedition. Do not leave the group. _Obviously._ Do not question the Commander's orders. _Manageable._  (Unless the Commander was as intelligent as the lumps of coal she dealt with on a daily basis in which case that rule may only be doable with heavy doses of the strongest Vodka she could find). Do not ask unnecessary questions. _What counted as an unnecessary question exactly?_ _This one? Okay. I won't ask it._ And most importantly: _Do not leave the path._

Gaby wasn't scared of much. She's pretty sure it's one of the qualities about herself that endeared her so towards Illya, but the thought of the Wilds terrified her. One would think she'd be used to the thought, even slightly more prepared thanks to having been born and raised for a significant portion of time in the East and moving to the North a mere two years ago, but she wasn't. For one she'd been asleep for most of the journey and any of the ride she was conscious of was shrouded under thick inky darkness. Secondly she hadn't been on foot, courtesy of the Party protecting their assets (namely her father) from any potential harm and by association had been lacking nothing in terms of comfort and protection.

It wasn't even that she _lacked_ that protection now. If anything she felt safer knowing Illya would be beside her from start to finish (it had been her one request), but this was the first time she felt truly _part_ of the Wilds. And it's dangers felt all the more real.

They were walking on the Iron Path now, the Curtain a mere blip in the distance looking like an ugly scar across the horizon. Despite how unsightly it was Gaby couldn't help but feel just that little bit lost. The Curtain had been a fixture in her life for nineteen years and now suddenly it was gone, whisked away like the steam from an engine or the frost from her breath.

Gaby felt Illya's eyes on her then, not that the sensation was anything new or unusual. She often times found him staring with a certain cold intensity when he thought she wasn't paying attention. It had worried her in the beginning, the silent hovering, but she had grown to accept it as a part of Illya's affection. Even grown to find a level of comfort in the knowledge that someone was always looking out for her.  She turned to look up at him. His eyes danced with a concern that bellied the harsh expression on his face."Okay?" Illya asked softly (always softly with Gaby. Soft and gentle) in her native tongue, a barely there brush of fingers against her ribs.

Gaby forced a smile. "Yes. Of course," she cleared her throat and quickly adjusted the wool cap upon her head. She eyed him critically, "and yourself? You seemed a little green earlier."

Illya hummed deep in his throat, a noncommittal sound, his gloved hand resting poised on the hilt of his sword. Gaby could see the grip of one of his handguns strapped to his thigh and the rifle slung across his back. "I am fine. There was just," he waves his free hand in the air as he draws the words together, "much iron."

"Well, the Curtain is far behind us now. I assume you can breathe easier, yes?" The question was not a sympathetic one. Illya didn't need sympathy, at least not outwardly, he needed fact. Order. Structure. And Gaby was more than willing to be that rock for him. Gaby tossed her ponytail, a quick economic thing born from hasty waking and little time, back behind her shoulder. She understood well the meaning behind his words. Iron may not hurt him quite like it would a full blooded _Other_ but it was still a suffocating presence to be around large quantities of. 

Illya nodded and adjusted the strap of his rifle. "Yes. It is easier."

"Good," she stepped in quickly, tapping her knuckles _tap-tap,_ against Illya's side before pulling back and facing the path once more.

Their group was a small one, just the bare necessities expunged for their travels. Gaby wasn't her father. She wasn't a high profile citizen or a _man_  for that matter, and though they valued her intelligence they did not value her enough to truly protect her. She knew this and she accepted it, it was one of the reasons she had requested Illya to be part of her guard. At the very least there'd be one person to truly care about her well being beyond "asset". Good enough to obey orders from but not good enough to garner respect.

Gaby turned her attention to the members of her party. There were a total of ten: six guards and four "researchers". Though researcher may be too kind a term for her. Mechanic was probably more applicable. Gaby was simply heading to one of the mines on the outer rim of the Western establishment for routine maintenance and repairs. The other three, her Uncle Rudi, and Viniciguerra's, they were the true researchers, studying something in the dirt surrounding the establishment. Gaby wasn't given specifics. And she knew well enough not to ask.

A _t least it's pretty._ Gaby mused as she looked up at the crisp blue sky. They could have been sending her South where the swamp lands were. She shuddered at the thought. Gaby's feet crunched across the path. The snow on the ground had set, casting everything but the path in a glittering silvery glow. In the distance she could see the beginnings of the treeline. The Ironwood Forest, the only trees strong enough to endure the harsh temperatures of the temperamental North. Illya followed her gaze.

"Stay close to me," he said, "there is no path to follow because the trees in the forest dampen the potency of the wilds, but it's easy to get lost."

Gaby rolled her eyes. "Yes Illya, I am very aware of that." She patted his arm. "Don't worry, I will not stray far."

The treeline loomed before them and Illya began to tense all over again.

"It'll be okay Illya."

He nodded, but his expression was twisted into a shade of a grimace. "It is just for the night."

 _Tap tap._ Against Illya's hip. He looked down at her with a moderately softened gaze. "That's the spirit."

 _Tap-tap._ Illya replied.

They entered the forest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I'm sorry this is so late. I actually had most of this written last month, but then I got hit up with actual inspiration for my original novel (a little urban fantasy centering around the book of revelations. I'm so clever~) so this was sort of set on the backburner. Again.   
> So sorry. It's a LITTLE longer than the first chapter (at least this one's 1k words) but I'm sorry it's so short. Not gonna lie, this will probably be updated sporadically inbetween chapters of my current WIP since that's my priority atm, BUT REST ASSURED! IT WILL BE UPDATED!

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine. If you notice anything glaring let me know. I apologize in advance it's like 3am where I'm posting this so my brain probably fucked up somewhere. Anyway uh yeah. Just a start. And if you've got any questions let me know and if it's not too spoiler I'll answer them.


End file.
